Digging in the Dirt (To Find the Places I Got Hurt)
by smallsun
Summary: Post STID. Mckirk. When an error at Starfleet leaves Jim completely exposed to his broken past, and the press, it's hard to keep his head above water. It's no more fun when Sam Kirk's voice comes out of the answering machine. /Sick & hurting Jim, Boyfriend-We-All-Want Bones, and a sprinkling of everyone else!/
1. Decision

**hellooooo! I have been lurking about the Star Trek fandom for about 5 years now and have finally given into giving something back and throwing some angsty, probably overdone plotlines into the void. I even made a fanfic and ao3 account for this purpose, look at me all fancy**

 **This was unbeta'd and you will probably be able to tell. Sorry**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Disclaimer: I sadly do not own any version of Star Trek :-( bummer**

* * *

3 weeks after he had initially begun pestering to _clean up all your damn paperwork, Jim, ever heard of a ringbinder? Damnit, there's a coffee stain on this one!,_ Len finally had the kitchen table to himself.

And like a cat that snatched the sunny spot, he had relished in it.

PADDs, books and reports littered the oak surface and not a _damn_ thing would distract him from finally trucking through them.

A complication at the dry dock had required Jim's attention and he'd left that morning.

And so had all the paperwork. Len smirked to himself.

It was pretty impressive, but mostly disturbing, how dedicated Scotty was to the ship. Len couldn't remember the last time he'd been back on Terran soil, if at all, since the _Enterprise_ had gone in for repairs.

Or revamping. Or whatever. He wasn't an engineer.

The Scotsman's dedication had gotten a little more personal however when Jim's communicator had started squawking at 4:03 am.

If Len had gotten to it first, a few more colourful words would've been exchanged – the man's sleeping pattern was about as healthy as a slow dance with a strain of Arethian flu – but Jim answered with a patient smile, a gentle swipe to McCoy's arm and a quiet, "Hey, Scotty."

He'd left an hour later.

Leonard didn't deserve him.

He poured another coffee, and settled back into his work.

* * *

The door swished open just as Len'd been considering dinner. It was early evening and his eyes were beginning to tire and squint.

Jim pressed a kiss to his cheek and McCoy reached out his hand. "I thought you were gonna try and get Scotty down for a drink?"

"Tried, failed." Jim allowed himself to be pulled to him, and wrapped his arms around Len's shoulders from behind. "Watcha doing?"

"What I shoulda done a month ago. You hungry?"

"Not really." The younger man began to pull away but Len held him steady, a hand on his arm. He cast his eyes over Jim.

If he wasn't mistaken, Jim's hands had been shaking.

"You alright?"

Usually by now, Jim would be excitedly regaling him with the tales of the day – how his ship is coming together, all the improvements – Len loved to see his eyes sparkle when he spoke about the _Enterprise._

Jim flashed a smile. His eyes were a little bloodshot. "Fine. Just tired. I really need to pee, though, so if you could let me go…"

Tired. That made sense, he guessed. He'd been up early, and they'd been up grossly late the night before.

He squeezed Jim's arm and he quickly retreated to the bathroom.

Len held his face in his hands and scrubbed his eyes. "Dinner."

Jim came out of the bedroom a short while later. He grabbed himself a glass of water and flopped onto the sofa.

Only Leonard would've noticed the way he leaned into the counter for support, the unusual paleness of a recently bathed person who enjoys showers as unbearably hot as Jim does.

(Shower sex was one element of their relationship that was left relatively unexplored due to The Temp Argument. " _Oh my god, Jim! No, don't turn it_ up _! I'm a doctor, not a lobster! I can't see for steam!" "And it's about to get a whole lot steamier – Bones! Come back!"_ )

Len's stomach churned in concern for his lover.

 _He's not himself. This hasn't happened in so long._

As he sat, Len stood and went into the kitchen. He brought back a green bowl of chicken stew and dumplings.

It was only half full, and he handed it to Jim. "Eat, darlin'. You don't look so hot."

The younger man hesitated, then just nodded.

You had to be careful with Jim. The man was incredibly hardy and strong, capable of almost anything he put his mind to, and yet gentle, caring enough to know what to say and when to say it.

He always put others first, sometimes to the detriment of himself.

And the first time Leonard witnessed him doing just that, he began to knock down the wall Jim had built up.

It was firm and it was well reinforced. And it had taken the Doctor years to get inside without feeling like he was _forcing_ his way through.

Len knew now that it was up to Jim to come out with it, not for him to ask.

In the Academy days there had been fiery arguments and harsh words flung around when Jim had been stubborn and closed up, conflicting hugely with Leonard's need to _fix it, fix it right now._

It hurt Len deeply that despite the charming bravado, Jim was sometimes not okay. It occurred less and less nowadays, but when the nightmares, the overwhelming memories, the panic attacks struck, they struck hard. Leonard felt helpless and sometimes found himself almost in tears.

The _Kelvin._ Tarsus. Frank. _Dying._

Jim should never have had to live those things.

There was a soft clunk beside him as Jim placed the bowl on the coffee table, empty. He had a weak smile on his face. "Happy?"

Leonard turned his whole body towards him as Jim slid down into his arms. "Always happy when you're around." Jim sniffed a laugh. "Sure."

He planted a line of kisses on his neck. " _Yes._ Don't question me, kid."

Jim took a shuddering breath and nuzzled his nose into Len's chest. He squeezed the older man's hand. "I love you."

"Love you too, kid." Leonard replied. Then, "Everything okay, Jim?"

He was quiet for a few seconds. "Yeah. I… I just need to think about it for awhile. I will tell you. I just…"

"Need some time. That's fine. I'm here."

They sat in embrace for an hour or more.

* * *

Len had to go into HQ the next day, to check up on some out patients and finalise the admin he'd eventually finished. He'd picked up a part time voluntary role at the clinic, just to help out and get to know some of the new team that would be joining them on the _Enterprise_.

" _It's to keep the magic hands busy."_ Jim had winked and waggled his eyebrows at Pavel and Hikaru across the bar. They'd laughed. McCoy had scoffed.

The day was pleasant. The novelty of knowing he was on dry ground, the same planet and continent as his Mama whilst he worked was never lost on him.

He joined Nyota for a drink as usual afterward.

She also had donated some time of her extended shore leave, to helping out with some xenolinguistic research - her keen ear and unparalleled fluency obviously accelerated the work massively, but she would never say so.

Leonard suspected it filled her time whilst Spock was visiting New Vulcan.

The pair tended to gravitate to one another, onboard or not, to grouse or giggle about their respective boyfriends over a few drinks.

Sometimes others would join them; Jim, Sulu - and tonight Christine had slipped into the booth unannounced, much to the happiness of Len. He'd always had a soft spot for Chapel, and her and Nyota were close.

It made for easy conversation, and Len was at ease.

"So how's your logical lover doin'? Bet he misses Jim like a thumb up the ass." Len snorted.

Nyota downed her drink and laughed. "You know what? He does, Leonard, he does!"

"Oh _God,_ he does not."

"Honest to God, every time he calls, he's asking after Kirk!" Nyota hooted.

Len grinned. Jim was so magnetic, even the hobgoblin couldn't resist. "They're suckers for one another. Should I feel threatened?"

"Bets on they'll be married in 18 months. Power couple. Do you think they'd have a cat? They'd have a cat."

"Naw. Jim's been angling for a puppy for months!"

"Why d'you need one? Jim _is_ a puppy, Len." Christine smiled fondly.

"You're damn right there, Chris."

Leonard's eyes crinkled affectionately at the thought of his bubbly, cheerful boyfriend.

And then his stomach twisted a little. Jim had never replied to him.

He'd sent him a message earlier, just checking in.

But he'd been so engrossed in the bourbon and conversation that he'd forgotten.

He flipped open his communicator – there was nothing.

"Excuse me, ladies." He shot them a quick smile before edging out of the booth and into the chilling night air. Jim answered within only a few rings and small amount of tension eased from Len's chest.

"Hey, Bones. You okay?"

"I'm fine, Jim. Are you? You didn't reply to me."

"Ugh… yeah. I fell asleep, lost track of time. Sorry, Bones. Didn't mean to worry you or anythin'. Sorry." Jim sounded weary. His voice was lacking something. Len frowned.

"It's fine, Jimmy." He waited for Jim to say something, but there was silence. "Look, I'm heading back now anyway. I'll see you in two shakes." He suddenly felt anxious to return to the younger man.

"It's still early… you don't have to come back for me. I'm fine, honest."

 _You're not even convincing yourself there, darlin'._

"I'll see you soon." He hung up before Jim could up his protestations.

He apologised to Chris and Nyota and grabbed his jacket.

As he paced back, he found himself gazing at the stars. He was surprised to feel a sense of longing to return somewhere inside him.

The lights were dim when he returned, Jim lounging on the couch with a blanket wrapped tightly around him. He lolled his head backwards over the arm of the seat when he heard the door shut.

"Hey." He said hoarsely.

"Hey yourself." Len made a beeline for the couch and placed the back of his hand on Jim's forehead. He was a little warm. Jim stirred away from the hand. "M'okay."

"Like hell. Move up."

The pair sat side by side, Jim quietly playing with Len's fingers, stroking them, straightening and curling them around his own hand. He stopped to knead his forehead and sank deeper into the sofa.

"Headache?" Leonard asked softly.

Jim didn't reply straight away. "Yeah."

The older man frowned. "Is this a common cold, or are you just stressed?"

Jim breathed out a laugh and lifted his head to look in his eyes. "Maybe both?"

 _He's trying hard to keep it together._

 _I really need to know what's goin' on. This isn't just bad flashbacks._

Len sighed. "C'mere." He pulled Jim in close, a mirror image of how they'd fallen asleep the night before. "You need to start talkin', kid. I'm worried."

"Huh…"

"What?"

"You smell like girls." Leonard chuckled. It was a feeble attempt to change the subject – a signal from Jim that he wasn't ready to talk. He rubbed Jim's back soothingly.

The kid coughed wetly into his shirt and Len scoffed in mock disgust. "You're a real charmer, you know that, Jim?"

"The ladies like it."

"Sure."

The Doctor's mind began to wander (mostly to the kitchen cabinet storing the whiskey) when Jim spoke up suddenly, as if he wanted it to escape his mouth before his tongue could reel it back in.

"They want to release the files. Tarsus. For educational uses. Or something."

Leonard's face pulled into a deep frown. He was pretty sure Jim could feel his heart thumping heavily as he moved uncomfortably on his chest. "You're kidding."

He didn't know what to say.

Jim sighed. "I wish."

Len didn't know how to feel. _Nobody_ knew about Tarsus, not really. Apart from Kevin Riley, Jim had no idea where the other members of "The Tarsus 9" were. If they were even alive.

Starfleet had kept it comfortably covered up, mostly for the sake of self-preservation. By all accounts, they'd fucked up royally. Come in too late, failed to save lives, failed to apprehend Governor Kodos and his lackeys.

Starfleet was usually a well upheld organisation - code, conduct, morals and all that - but to let the general public know that a war criminal was possibly still at large was a "threat to public safety."

Jim's life could've been so different. It made Len's head hurt that this pain was his reality.

But Jim was grateful for the anonymity. So Len would bite his tongue.

And for that, for all the rest of the world knew, Tarsus IV was a colony whose crop system failed and that Starfleet had quickly evacuated back to Earth.

"Why do they want to do this, Jim? It isn't fair on you!"

"It's… policy, or somethin'. Releasing classified files 10 years after the event. Pike… denied it 5 years ago."

Good for Pike. "Christ." Jim laughed a short and bitter laugh. "Do you get a say in this shit?"

"I guess."

"Well that's good, right? You can just say no every 5 years."

"Mmm."

Len frowned. "Jim?"

The younger man puffed air out of his mouth and leaned back against the sofa. "I dunno, Bones. They're only releasing it to certain classes in the Academy. And they won't know it's me." He was looking him in the eye, turned towards him. Jim was trying to convince _him._

"You've said yes?"

"No. Not yet. It's not just my decision… it's Kevin's, too. They only told me because I'm a guest lecturer at the Academy. I need to ask him."

"What damn relevance does it have if you're a lecturer? Jim, you should be in the know whatever! This is _you,_ not _Starfleet._ " He scoffed.

"Bones," Jim directed his eyeline to the floor. "They told me as a lecturer because it'd be in my syllabus."

If Len could detach his jaw and let it drop to the floor, he would have done it then and there. "No."

"Bones…" _How has he been holding it together so well? He should be flyin' off the goddamn handle!_ "I can't let something like Tarsus happen again because I couldn't get over myself."

Jim's eyes held fear. Anxiety. Responsibility.

" _I_ know what happened. I know how it could've been prevented. What Starfleet should've done." Of course Jim knew this. Damn kid probably dwelled on it everyday. "They fucked up, okay? But they're finally doing something about it."

Len knew his expression was sour, but he couldn't help it. "And they just came up and suggested this like it was afternoon tea on the veranda? No!"

Jim was carefully eyeing Leonard like a skittish hound.

Len stood up and began to pace.

"Hell, I'm in a mind to call them right now. It's their shit to clean up! Bastards are closing their eyes and letting you pick up the pieces!" He pointed an angry finger at Jim. "And here you are, talkin' like the brass, like it's all on your head!"

Jim's voice was level and quiet. "Please, Bones. It's what I want."

"No it's not. You don't wanna open up these festering wounds. You're willing to ignore yourself because it's what you think is _right._ " A long pause. "How d'you even fathom this, when you still get nightmares? It wasn't exactly yesterday! As your doctor I _cannot_ condone this shit."

"And as my boyfriend, you should understand it." Jim stood, swayed a little.

Leonard took a step forward to steady him.

Jim shrugged off his hand and stormed into the bathroom, locking the door.

Len went for the whiskey.

* * *

 **SO YEAH i hope this was alright, please let me know what you think! Too rambly? OOC? Help me (but dnt to be too harsh I have a fragile ego)**

 **the inspiration for this story was completely taken from the title, which in turn was stolen from Peter Gabriel. Cheers Peter bro**

 **next chapter soon, so much love my Trek friends!**


	2. Consideration

**CAN I JUST SAY i just proof read this and I am so tired that I realised I'd called Jim "gym" like 7 or 8 times**

 **also most of my grounding for Kirk being a lecturer at the Academy comes from his memory alpha wiki page that says " _Kirk was top of his class in survival strategies and tactical analysis_** ** _. He was also Treasurer of Starfleet Academy's xenolinguistics club._ "**  
 **(him being the freaking treasurer of the xenolinguistics club is all kinds of funny too because you know that Uhura would just constantly fuck him up every time he decided to pay a visit but he'd keep turning up because he was in love with hearing her speak)**

 **ANYWAY ENJOY**

* * *

He drank himself to the tipping point, and then sat at the kitchen island, mindlessly going through PADD articles that he could not give less of a damn about.

He was seething and he made it clear in his body language as a demonstration to the world. Jim was still in the bathroom, so he had to settle for the furniture knowing he was mad.

Jim was just as expert at refusing to back down (Command Track specialty) and Len wondered how long the two of them would dance around one another before someone gave in and went to bed. It was usually Len, who was about as much use holding a grudge against Jim as he was doing a backflip from a height into a barrel.

He sighed. He knew he wasn't angry at Jim, anyway.

Jim was confused and eager and scared. He didn't know what he was doing, or putting himself in for.

 _Starfleet_ knew what they were doing.

As far as Len was concerned, it was _their_ fault.

He exhaled heavily through his nose and flicked the PADD away, across the counter. He didn't really want to think about it anymore – his head was swimming slightly from the drink – so he tidied up, splashed his face with some water at the kitchen sink and headed to the bedroom, forsaking washing or brushing his teeth for Jim's privacy.

The bed was cool and he ordered the lights off, sinking into it quickly. He was out like a light; alcohol was the perfect remedy for the heavy thoughts.

It'd been his medicine before and during his first few weeks at the Academy. To help him forget Joce, stop wondering how his little girl was.

It _had_ been his medicine, before _Jim_ got his filthy paws on it and made a melodramatic show of pouring it out of the window.

The damn kid had somehow hacked his card too, stopped him buying more.

He was woken to Jim croaking for the lights to turn up 10% as he fumbled around for a sleepshirt.

He stirred a little to show he wasn't asleep, flipping lazily to face Jim's side of the bed and the clock. It was early, only 23:15.

When he lay down, Leonard cautiously reached out for him, and Jim rolled close to his face and nuzzled his cheek. They kissed for a long moment and Leonard's body was filled with forgiveness and regret.

Jim pulled away before too long. He sighed and brought his hands either sides on Leonard's face and kissed his cheek softly, eyes closed.

He rolled over so his back was to Len, though, and there was some space between them. Len understood.

* * *

The next few days went catastrophically, achingly slowly.

Whenever Len woke up, Jim would be gone.

It wasn't unusual per se: the young captain had work to do.

But it wasn't that - Len knew that a busy mind was a prioritising mind. Especially when it came to Jim Kirk.

And if Jim had something to do, something he could solve or fix or help someone with, it was Jim's outstanding priority above whatever else was troubling him.

Basically, Jim was up at the dry dock, diving headfirst into whatever Scotty needed doing.

And when he did finally come home Len would already have given in and hit the sack. Jim would slink in, quiet and careful, slip into bed, straight into Leonard's arms.

The night before he'd felt a low grade fever prickling on the younger man's skin and roused him to _take something, please, darlin'. Don't run yourself into the ground._

Finally, after nearly a week, Kevin Riley was sitting at their kitchen table.

Len dropped his work case by the door, making the young man jump slightly. Len cringed.

It had taken McCoy a second to figure out who it was – somehow in his head he'd imagined Riley to be older than he appeared before him now. At least taller since he saw him last.

Sadness stabbed at him. That's what you get for being starved for months on end.

Despite this, Kevin stood and gave him a warm smile, and the two embraced.

"Hey, Kev," Len said, shrugging his jacket off. "How've you been, kid?"

Kevin sat back at the table. "Busy as hell. Exams, huh?" He looked exhausted. "How'd you do 'em?"

Len chuckled and sat in the chair opposite him. "If I could give you a straight answer for that, kid, I would. But I got nothin'."

"S'what everyone seems to say."

Kevin carried on speaking, about some published report of Leonard's that he'd read.

Len wasn't listening. Now he was watching Kevin closely.

Riley was pale, speaking fast. Jittery, like a moth.

 _Jim's told him._

 _Does he know I know?_

Len interrupted him. "It's okay, Kevin. I know about the lectures."

Kevin let out a breath that he obviously didn't realise he'd been holding in. "Jim seemed kinda wary about you coming home. I thought he might be keeping it a secret."

"Where is he? Can I getcha somethin'?"

"I'm good. He's just gone to get something to drink." Riley gestured to the floor, suggesting that Jim had gone to the basement to raid their collection of the good stuff. "Kinda think he left incase I wanted to cry in peace or something." He breathed a laugh.

"And… how're you feelin' about all of it?" Len ventured.

"If I'm honest, I'm… cool with it." He had visibly sat up straighter and looked sturdier. Len believed him. "I mean, I'm not too hot over Jim talking about it, but if I don't have to listen, and it's private to the Academy and all that, I don't think I care. At least I don't right now."

Leonard nodded. "It's brave of you."

"I just want it to help people."

Len stood and patted Kevin on the back. "You're staying for dinner." Kevin smiled like a son whose father had said something embarrassing. Len laughed. He moved into the kitchen.

"And no studying tonight!" He shouted out.

Kevin groaned.

"Shut your mouth! Doctor's orders!"

Jim brought back a small selection of stuff, including some wine left over from Len's birthday party, and Leonard made meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

The three shared a really pleasant, calm evening and Len was confident that when Riley left, he was feeling a lot better at the situation. He and Jim had made sure that he was completely sure of what he was agreeing to and Kevin was adamant.

Len loved to see Jim and Kev interact with one another. Of the sad origins of their relationship blossomed a sweet care for one another, like brothers. Jim was incredibly protective of the younger man. He could see it also in how he talked to Chekov – whom coincidentally was a good friend of Kevin's (though Jim constantly asserted that there was _something more_ _going on than 'good pals', Bones, trust me. Watch this space!_ ).

They had sex for the first time in a week and afterwards they lay intertwined, panting and happy.

Jim's colour seemed to have returned a lot now that he had gotten Kevin's consent. It must've been a bigger weight on his shoulders than Len realised.

"I'll tell them tomorrow." Jim said into the darkness. "The brass."

The doctor's gut twisted a little. He'd seen how Jim had spoken about the opportunity tonight. He could see that Jim wanted this, needed this, for closure. To heal somewhat. "Alright." He whispered.

"If it gets too much, I'll tell you. I promise, Bones." Jim wound his fingers through the man's hair. "Thanks for looking out for me. I know you were."

Len grunted. "I always want the best for you, you know that?"

"Hmm. True. Yeah. Except for when you hypospray me ten to the dozen like a maniac."

"Oh, your Iowa ass needs all the help it can get. Count your damn lucky stars you've got me around, kid. "

* * *

Spock was due back the next day and Nyota had invited them round for take-out in the evening. It was a Saturday and Jim and Leonard had both taken a day off for each other.

After Jim'd contacted Starfleet and let them know his decision, they'd walked and had lunch along the river, and called Len's Mama to decide when next to come and visit.

Len didn't know who was more excited: him for his Mama, or Jim for her food.

It was a great day, one Len wished they could have more if they weren't cooped up on a spaceship so often. The only thing that bothered him was Jim's cold.

He thought they'd seen the last of it a couple days ago, but Jim was coughing and sneezing more and more as the day went on. It wasn't allergies, at least Len didn't think so. It was mid-October and the pollen count was very low.

Of course, Jim insisted everything was fine. Damn stubborn mule.

Nyota shared a look with him as Jim and Spock sat in the kitchen discussing God-Knows-What-And-Who-Cares-Anyway and a racking cough could be heard.

Len rolled his eyes at it and turned his attention back to the card game – it was some complicated Andorian version that Gaila had taken hours agonising over teaching Leonard the rules.

Nyota, obviously, picked it up in 10 seconds flat.

"You have not just won again. Lord." Len threw his cards down and stared in disbelief at the winning hand before him. "One day you're gonna be found a cheater and I will throw a dance."

Nyota smirked. "All in a day's work, Doctor." She scooped up the cards and began shuffling again. "Are you boys done yet?" She called back.

"A man could starve!"

"Just a minute, honey!" Jim called out in a high-pitched voice.

"I'll _honey_ you." Leonard growled under his breath.

The pair eventually appeared from the kitchen, Spock sitting neatly beside Uhura and Jim taking up the large armchair. He stuck his legs out to rest them on Len's knees.

They ordered food and sat enjoying easy and amusing conversation, punctuated by Jim's coughing.

Conversation wasn't always Spock's forte, especially when Jim and Nyota spoke so sharp and lightning fast, but Len was taken aback by how little Spock was contributing.

He sat quietly, watching his girlfriend warmly.

And then every once in a while his gaze would fix on Jim and his expression would shift just ever so slightly to something Leonard couldn't quite place.

When he stood to take the dishes to the kitchen, Len followed him.

"Leonard. Is everything alright?" Spock stood straight and looked him straight in the eye.

"I dunno Spock, you tell me. What's wrong with you?"

The Vulcan looked uncomfortable. "I'm unsure of what you mean."

Leonard scoffed. "Oh, come on, don't play dumb with me. You look like you've got a hot rod up your ass. Even more than usual."

"The matter of which I am currently occupied with is one that I am not sure I can share, Leonard."

"Is it about Jim?"

Spock looked surprised. "Yes."

"Tarsus IV?"

Now he looked relieved. "Yes."

"Jim tell you?"

"No – I was actually concerned that Jim was not aware. Am I incorrect in thinking so?"

"Yeah, he knows. It was his decision." Len couldn't stop himself from scowling.

"I see." Spock looked out the gap through the kitchen door towards Jim. "I assumed that his mood indicated he did not know. Is he certain about this? I was always under the impression that the events of Tarsus IV were, as you would call it, a 'touchy subject' for Jim. I do not wish him emotional duress." Len smiled to himself a little. Spock sure was a soft old thing at heart.

"Yup. Sure stuck as a stick in the mud." Spock's face looked questioning. "He's sure, Spock. I tried talkin' him out of it but damn kid has to be a hero."

"I am as uncomfortable with the situation as you are, Leonard. But if this is something Jim wishes to do, we cannot stop him. Experience has taught us this."

"I know. Bastard. How did you find out?"

"I will be teaching a class in Vulcan studies at the Academy for a semester to encourage as many hands as possible to help with New Vulcan." Leonard smiled sympathetically despite himself. "I was looking at the provisional timetable and saw the details."

"And you thought Starfleet had just thrown him straight into the fire?"

"If I am honest, Leonard, that is still my way of thinking. My opinion of this situation is greatly negative and I am anxious for the Captain."

Leonard patted him on the shoulder and turned to leave the room. "You're not alone there, Spock."

* * *

Len had to half-carry a pretty trashed Jim back home.

It was alright, really, since Nyota and Spock's apartment was a 5 minute walk away, and a trashed Jim was an affectionate Jim. Len was reminded that Jim loved him maybe 5 times just as they climbed the stairs to their apartment.

Len would've drank too but he was observing a surgery in the morning that a student was undertaking and didn't want to be off his game, just in case.

Plus it was always fun to soberly observe Nyota gracefully outdrink Jim.

Jim was heavier than a sack of bricks though.

He fell into bed, a giggling Jim next to him. He ignored him and was out fairly fast.

Until 8am, when he was rudely awoken.

Jim had his legs swung out of bed, his head in his hands. He was groaning softly.

"Jesus Jim, take some aspirin! I told you to stop after the whiskey." Leonard pulled the covers back up to his shoulder and lay back down.

Jim took a shuddering breath in. "Jesus Christ. My grandma can take it better than you. Lie down." He sat up and went to yank Jim back down, when he saw the PADD lying next to him.

It was on a news article.

 _GOLDEN BOY CAPTAIN'S LONG-HIDDEN SECRET  
Starfleet Captain James T. Kirk's Dark Past Comes to Light_

Jim's body wracked with a sob, then he threw up all over the floor.

* * *

 **bit slow going but im about to put you through a world of pain :o) love u all xx**

 **PLEASE REVIEW! It keeps me going!**


	3. Missing

Stunned.

He was stunned.

Into silence. The joints in his legs were trembling and the unease was scratching the air like static electricity.

Len felt frozen in place and nothing in him could bring himself to reach for the PADD.

To read it, turn it off, throw it across the room? He didn't know.

He couldn't do anything.

The whole world knew about Jim's past. The abuse. Physical. Emotional.

Sexual. Len wasn't entirely sure, Jim was very vague. That's how it remained.

Len wasn't sure, but _the world knew_.

Jim was in unimaginable pain.

"I don't feel good. I don't…" Jim retched again. He'd been silent as well. "I don't… know what to do. I don't feel good. Help me," His voice was a pitiful croak and Len could hear the tears on his cheeks. "Please, Bones, help me."

Len lunged forward and pulled Jim to him, holding him fiercely, teeth gritted, as Jim silently clutched him. His nails were digging into Len's back but he didn't care. The pain kept him there. He forced his tears into silence.

 _How do I stop this?_

"I never-never told _anyone._ I wanted it to die with me, Bones." he whispered. " _I_ want to die."

Len's throat constricted and he swallowed convulsively. _I can't do this._

He breathed into Jim's ear. "I'm so sorry, Jimmy. I'm so sorry."

A shuddering breath escaped Jim's mouth. "You c'n read it. Please," his voice broke and hot tears constellated his face, "Please still love me after."

Leonard gave into tears then. He lay down, his head beside Jim's. His hands found his cheeks and he pressed a fierce kiss to his forehead that lingered several seconds. When he pulled away, crystal-blue, misted eyes were staring at him.

Everything around them was silent and still, and in that moment, Leonard could have been convinced that nobody else existed but him and Jim.

"Not even death has stopped me from bein' with you, from loving you. You are everything. You got that through your noggin'?" He offered the smallest of smiles and Jim nodded weakly.

Jim's arms encircled his waist and his face pressed perfectly into the crook of the older man's neck, where it belonged. It was hot and sticky, but it made it real. Jim was shaking something awful.

How could anything compare to this? This had happened to his boyfriend.

His lover, his Captain.

His sun, moon, stars, his _reason for being_. Had the tides of fate ever been so cruel?

They had, now. They'd dragged Jim into the surf and marooned him.

After awhile, Jim got angry.

It was a miserable rage. He looked lost and confused and helpless. He just paced, and paced, and paced. Len didn't stop him.

He sorta muttered to himself, and looked a moment away from ripping his hair out in clumps.

Len knew that most of the person he knew Jim to be had been shut away somewhere irrational and dark for the time being.

At one point, he caught his toe on the cabinet and screamed brokenly, kicking the unit until the drawers spilled open and fell onto the floor, socks and underwear, a lamp falling and smashing.

He then proceeded to – basically – hyperventilate to sleep.

Len was left with his thoughts and a puddle of vomit.

He absently began clearing it up, making the bed, dressing.

He placed the PADD on the bedside table, screen still lit by the headline.

He carefully wrapped a thick blanket around Jim's curled form and pressed a mild sedative into his neck. He didn't need it.

But Jim's glass was bled dry. One more chip and it would smash.

And once he was ready, Len neatly placed the PADD on the table and pulled out the chair slowly. He took a deep breath, and swiped to the text.

* * *

Hot water and thick steam shrouded him – he knew he was risking second degree burns. He wanted it to _hurt._

James T. Kirk had spent two months of his life in solitary confinement.

Two months in solitary, four in the wild, just under one in quarantine.

64 days in the dark, silence, absolutely alone. In and out. _Over_ two months altogether. Orders of the Governor.

Countless days of torture, the specifics of which he did not want to remind himself of.

Four months in the forests of Tarsus IV. He saved lives scrabbling for food, shelter, warmth. Caring for everybody but himself. He'd eat grass and leaves to bump up ration sizes.

Once Jim'd figured out that his water was mixed with a chemical that would loosen his tongue, he refused to drink. He wouldn't eat, either, save it be mixed in with his food.

Jim did this to save his kids.

Of course, there were the times _before_ Jim knew what was being slipped into the small canteen that he - _oh so graciously -_ hadbeen allowed.

Six of his children. Found. Killed.

And now, the world knew.

The media had scanned an entire report overnight, preening for any word of Jim. The report was over 40,000 words, but the 6,766 on Jim were hand-picked out with masterfully sickening malice and ignorance. Kevin Riley made a pretty heavy appearance too. _Christ._

There were reports flying every which way – astonishments, accusations. Few, but some of them, towards Jim. Len had sought them out in a fervent ire, simply to block, report, reply. He felt helpless to do anything else in defence of his boyfriend. They were petty as hell.

For giving Pike a black eye when he was rescued.

For lashing out in the quarantine programme, for what the regulatory report produced, saying that Jim had damaged Starfleet property on more than one occasion _whilst being held in a small room on his return to Terra._ Who'd have thought it. A strong-wiled little kid with PTSD from solitary confinement taking a dislike to his small, confined and frequently solitary quarters.

For being a bad enough kid to be sent to live on Tarsus in the first place.

For The Six.

But never fucking mind the thousands who'd been slaughtered anyway!

He left the shower to check on Jim, not because he couldn't handle the heat any longer.

* * *

The standard issue door, now painted red to assume a more homely aesthetic, was snatched open within five seconds of him knocking.

"For the love of God tell me Jim's here, Nyota, please." He asked desperately. His eyes swept the room past her.

Her eyes held more than she knew she could say at that moment, so she simply and wordlessly shook her head, taken aback. She'd obviously been crying earlier.

Len shook his head in return. "He's just disappeared. I've looked _everywhere._ " He stuttered.

Nyota concealed the panic in her expression. When Len looked about to cry, she pulled him into a careful hug. "We've been calling for hours. Come in and rest for a moment."

She coaxed him in and deposited him on a chair, returning with a thick black towel that she wrapped around his shoulders.

He could hear her speaking, worry heavy in her voice.

Moments later Spock entered the room, a PADD in his hand. He was wearing a sort of long sleeved jersey and Len was surprised at the casualness of the outfit despite himself.

His clothing didn't match his face, though. Eyes wilder than he'd ever seen them and composure lacking something Leonard didn't have the energy to place, Spock sat beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. It was raining heavily and Len had searched every place he could think of Jim to be.

This had been his final idea.

Earier he'd left the bathroom to find the apartment empty; Jim had gone without even a coat.

Hoping to distract himself, he glanced around. He looked at the PADD in Spock's lap. Complete mechanical nonsense flooded the screen.

Spock noticed his line of sight, and lifted it again. "Mister Scott and I are doing all we can to remove any offending material from the public domain."

Len nodded in what he hoped was a grateful fashion. _It's gotta be too damn late for that. Every man and his damn dog knows._

His teeth were chattering and his hands shaking. He wasn't sure if it was the adrenaline and crushing fear or the creeping cold - but his mind was rushing, stopping and starting, and it was making him dizzy.

Nyota handed him a hot mug. "Spock thinks the Starfleet system is corrupt. Scotty's locked it down and they're doing it manually in case anything else goes wrong."

She cautiously perched on the coffee table before him as if she was scared he would pitch forward any second.

"I can't stay." Leonard leant forward and set the mug down, beginning to shrug the towel off. "Jim could be anywhere." _What if he's dead?_

Nyota firmly put her hands on Len's knees.

"I understand, Len, I really do," she replied, "but you're out of ideas. Spock can go and search, he might know some other places. Scotty's got it covered. I'll call Hikaru, too. Nobody but people he knows well, right? You won't find him in this frame of mind."

"I will leave immediately, Leonard." Spock added.

Conflicted, Leonard finally agreed. "Alright. Don't bother calling him, though. He smashed his communicator before."

"Did he take anything with him?" Nyota had taken on that tone that made you trust her. "Keys?"

"I don't... no." Leonard's heart leapt. "I locked the door, Nyota. Christ, what if he's there? He's sick, and-"

"We'll go back there and wait, okay? Can you call Janice to keep an eye out for him?" Len's expression went sheepish. "What?"

"Smashed mine too. Damn thing kept buzzing and blurtin' out, couldn't hear myself think for the Starfleet bigshots and journalists tryna get ahold of me.."

She smiled. "I'll call her." Janice Rand, Jim's yeoman, was renting the apartment a couple floors up. She was a good lady and Len felt a little more at ease.

Spock had by this time pulled on a coat and an automatic rain deflector (Len personally preferred a good old-fashioned umbrella) and was standing near to the door. Nyota kissed him on the cheek whilst holding her communicator to her ear and ushered him out the door.

Len took advantage of the now warm drink and rubbed his hair and soaked clothes with the towel.

His heart was aching for Jim. He missed him and he needed to know he was alright.

Goddamn kid was gonna give him a heart attack before 40.

Nyota got him back to his place quickly and pried fresh clothes into his hands, adjusting the thermostat.

He showered for the second time that day, fast, in case Jim came through the door.

He hadn't.

It was Nyota's idea to play cards again, after she'd encouraged him to eat some soup and cornbread. Both things helped.

They played mostly in silence (with Nyota offering her constant reassurances and daming testimonies to Jim's ability to turn up _safe, unhurt, still grinning, still a jackass_ ) until the storm outside made him so nervous he couldn't concentrate. Thinking about Jim out there made him all kinds of crazy, so Nyota closed the blinds and set some soft music on the player.

It was then that his mind turned to Kevin Riley. The more he dwelled on what the report had said and the rest that he couldn't bear to read, the more he _needed_ to make sure the kid was okay.

He called him on the apartment phone, but there was no answer.

… _him and Pavel, Bones, peas in a pod. Gayer than us. Who holds hands_ that much _platonically? They're so gay. It's fantastically adorable…_

He punched in Chekov's number. It took a few rings.

"Hello? Keptin? Leonard?" the Russian was talking in hushed tones. "I really hope you are alright."

Len breathed a short sigh of relief. "It's me, Pavel. Are you okay, kid?"

"Oh, yes, I think so, yes." Pavel paused. "Kewin… he's wery upset. He's asleep now but I am worried." Len frowned sadly. Poor kid.

"Sorry to've disturbed you. I just needed to know he was doin' okay. You take good care of him, okay? Lemme know if you need anything."

"You haven't disturbed us. How is Jim doing, Leonard? And you?" The young boy sounded worried. "I have been thinking of the both of you. Kewin did not know ewerything that the Keptin had done. It was… big for him."

The two talked for a couple minutes more. Len pretended Jim was asleep too: Chekov, and especially Kevin, didn't need the stress.

He was a little surprised; Kev wasn't angry at all, from what Pavel said of him.

The kid had such a kind heart.

The call was interrupted by beeping indicating another incoming call, and Leonard made his goodbyes to Chekov.

He didn't know whether to answer – _it could be any old bastard wanting a headline_ – but then again, this apartment was relatively new and the line had been kept quiet, the number only handed out to close friends and family. Jim _and_ Len needed rest from work sometimes.

He switched the line and was met with heavy, ragged breathing. It took him less than a second to recognise it as Jim's.

"Jim! Jim, darlin', you there?" Nyota sat up and watched him intently. "Talk to me!"

"Bones…" A wracking cough. "Hurts."

His heart was thumping faster than a jackrabbit's. "Jim, tell me where you are. I'll come get you."

Jim couldn't reply for coughing so Len tapped the machine with his finger frantically. Nyota caught on quickly and copied the number down. It wasn't a communicator code.

Len struggled to keep Jim talking. For maybe 20 seconds, all he could get out of him was a barely concealed groan.

Nyota had been running the number through the database on Len's PADD. She held it up. Len's expression matched hers as he read the location.

 _Oh God._

"Sorry, Bones – _ugh_ – really hurts," Len could barely hear him. "I'm-"

Before Len could push the receiver to his ear, there was a thunderous, ear splitting crash.

Devoid of power, the whole of San Francisco sank into darkness.

* * *

 **Thank you for all the reviews and love on here and especially on AO3! Please continue to leave your thoughts, i really love to hear what you have to say!**

 **love you all xxx**


	4. You are Jim Kirk

" _Oh, kid. This isn't what I wanted for you. I'm sorry."_

 _Polished shoes. Crisp, ironed uniform, three feet in front of him._

" _It's not what I wanted… but it is what it is."_

 _He tilted his head upwards. What?_

 _He was a small, scared, cowering little boy._

" _This is reality. And... you are Jim Kirk." Comforting smile. Sad smile. "From what he's told me, Jim Kirk likes a good fight."_

 _Tears slipped off the bridge of his nose, the corners of his mouth. Mingled with cheap copper of his blood._

 _He didn't want to fight! He wanted to lift his arms and be picked up, cradled by his father._

 _He was so cold._

" _Help is on its way. I believe in you, son. It'll be okay. Hold on."_

 _The shoes carried him round the desk and straight through the closed door._

" _No – wait!" His voice was shot. "Pike? Please!"_

 _Don't leave me again. I need you._

* * *

Pike's Office.

It seemed so obvious.

He threw the dead line down and fumbled towards his medkit and the door.

His hands were shaking. His surgeon's hands.

The sudden disconnection from Jim had done nothing for his nerves; the young man felt miles away, like however soon they could reach him _was not soon enough._

Uhura didn't hesitate to throw on her coat beside him before disappearing into the kitchen.

She soon returned with two torches Len didn't know they'd owned and handed one to him with a reassuring squeeze of his hand as she relinquished it.

Her concern was well-masked by her determination. Leonard's affection and thankfulness for her hitched up a notch.

The city was eerily quiet in the darkness, the rain drowning out much else as it fell in incessant sheets, swallowing him whole. The thunder and lightning were reigning supreme over the city.

It was about a three block walk that seemed to extend and extend.

They would have ran, but it was virtually impossible in the downpour to move much faster than a half-jog.

Len was constantly checking over his shoulder, pinpricks of terror making him flinch in the low visibility, his torch barely cutting through the rain.

He hoped Jim hadn't been caught in this rain too long – he must still be in his sleepclothes.

They reached the Admiralty building without seeing a soul. They found their way to the main entrance, which was helpfully under shelter.

Nyota tried pulling the usually automatic door, then pushing it, then kicking it in.

It took one swift kick.

Women were brilliant.

"Len? Where now, Leonard?" Nyota had him by the wrists. Rain was dripping off her sleek hair and earrings but her composure stilled his fear a little yet.

He was still shaking though, with unabated nervous energy and his heart was pounding cruelly in his ears. Of course Nyota wouldn't know where Pike's personal office was – the only advisee Pike had was Jim.

They had to scale the stairs since the elevators were out, and by the time they reached the door to Admiral Pike's once office, they were both breathing hard and fast.

His stomach twisted a thousand knots when he saw him.

Far corner, behind the desk, knees to chest against the wall.

Head resting on knees, one hand clutching at his hair and other wrapped around his stomach. Shivering cold.

He looked so young.

Leonard dropped to his knees before him and called his name gently. Everything was so still.

The reinforced windows had dulled the heavy rain to a distant patter and the most prominent sound was of breathing.

"Jim… darlin'… c'mon now." Len gently cupped Jim's cheek, and Jim startled, pushing himself back against the wall like a cornered animal.

His eyes were bright and dilated – testament to the now visible cut and bruising on his forehead and hairline.

He was so frightened. Swallowing convulsively, he took a deep breath in before hissing as the movement jarred his ribs.

"Hey! Hey, take it easy." Len said quietly. "It's Bones." He added, taking in the definite concussion and obvious chest pain.

He hoped that was it. That that was the pain Jim was talking about. Those that could be fixed.

Suddenly, realisation dawned on the pale Captain.

"Bones…" Jim's voice was a weak croak.

For a further second, Len sat back on his haunches. "Yeah, Jim. It's me."

Then the younger man leaned forward, careful of his abdomen, and pushed his head against Leonard's chest. "My Bones." His arms snaked round his waist. "Of course you are."

Len sighed, heart hurting. "What you doing to me, kid, huh?" He whispered.

Nyota came over and draped a couple blankets on him, probably from the sitting area across the room.

She stood back again straight after, her heart skipping a beat at how loud Jim's teeth were chattering. He was shuddering against Leonard, who was rubbing his hands up and down his arms.

"He said you were coming."

"Who said? Jim, someone did this to you?"

Startled by something he'd said, Jim pushed away from Len and swayed. He reached out a hand and Len took it, unconsciously rubbing it warm. "No. Pike said. Didn't hurt m-me." He leaned his head back against the wall and let out a pained grunt. "He said h-help was on the way."

Jim's eyes slid shut as his bruised ribs fought against a cough bubbling in his chest.

Len exchanged a glance with Uhura. She looked sad. "Hypothermic hallucinations?" She questioned softly.

He nodded slowly. "Could you try and find him some fresh clothes?"

As she left, Jim went stiff, coughing wetly for several seconds. It was a horrible sound.

Len pressed a strong pain reliever in the juncture of his neck – the blond didn't flinch.

"Jimmy... I think I need to get you to the hospital." He said it apologetically: Jim was not a fan of hospitals.

"Please, Bones… no- no hos-hospals. _Please._ Just w'nt you."

"I know darlin'. And you will have me, okay?" He pulled out his tricorder and began scanning, having to free his hand from Jim's to hold the torch to it to even see the readings in the dark room.

 _Ribs not broken, just bruised. Minor concussion, now mostly coherent. Facial laceration, bruised stomach._

 _Chest infection. Temperature 94.28_ ° _F_ _. Hypothermic._

Starfleet's hospital was a half hour from this part of campus on a good day. And emergency services were certain to be up in the air by this time in a blackout…

 _If I can warm him up, maybe we can take a miss on the hospital._

He put the tools down, placed his warm hands on Jim's face. It jolted him awake a bit.

"Jim, when you talked to me earlier, remember that?" Jim hummed a yes. "That's good. You told me somethin' really hurts, d'you remember that?"

To his surprise, Jim chuckled. "Your accent. So Southern when y'r worried." He beamed up at the Doctor. "S'cute."

Lord. _Christ._ Whoever could not love this poor, sweet, perfect man was grossly misinformed.

"Jim, I really need you to think for me right now. What was it that hurt?"

Jim's eyes drifted back shut, but he lifted a hand to jab a finger at his head. "Your head?" Leonard's heart skipped a beat, picking up his tricorder again. _Migraine?_ _Brain damage? Nervous system?_

Jim's hand dropped from his head and he placed it on top of the tricorder. "Not that kind of hurt, Bones." He smiled at him sadly.

"Oh. Oh, Jim."

Nyota returned to find the two in a firm embrace, Jim's head pushed into the crook of Leonard's neck. The Doctor was carding his fingers through his hair, murmuring reassurances.

She placed the clothing on the desk, wondering what to do next.

She settled for trying to contact Spock from the opposite side of the room as Leonard extricated an aching and exhausted Jim from his soaked clothes and into some civilian clothes she'd found; obviously stored somewhere for winter as they were thick and warm, with several pairs of socks and a hat.

After a quick conversation with her partner, she turned back around from giving the pair some privacy to see Leonard using a blanket to carefully dry Jim's hair and wrapping it back around his shoulders.

Jim accepted the mother-henning like a champ: unusual. Even took the pom-pommed hat. Gave a clear indication as to how to younger man was really feeling.

She cautiously made her way over and kneeled before Jim. "Spock's been running across all San Francisco tonight looking for you. He sends you his love."

Jim snorted slightly. It was clear some colour was returning to his cheeks. Nyota pushed up on one side him, sharing body heat. Leonard took the other.

"I feel like that sentiment has been edited just a little." Len digressed, pointed at Uhura. "Nyota broke down a door to get to you, ya know."

Jim grinned. His voice was really struggling, going squeaky in places. "Bad. Ass. Y'r _so_ getting a fruit basket… or som'thng." Then he lifted his head from Leonard's shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. "Thank you." He murmured.

Nyota smiled softly. "Anything for you, charmer." Her eyes gleamed.

Then, with a sudden judder, everything lit up - and San Francisco came back to life.

Jim squeezed his eyes shut. "J'sus. S'bright."

"Lights, thirty percent." Len said. The brightness had sent him reeling a little, too.

The trio were quiet for a couple of minutes, Jim only coughing a couple of times and wincing, breathless at a hurt he was clearly underplaying.

Len's stomach was flip-flopping though, his innards rearranging themselves into a nervous knot.

Jim was a nervous wreck earlier. How long would it be before everything came crashing back to Earth? Hell, did he even remember the events that had started him spiralling?

 _Let it lie, Leo. He's okay right now. That's what matters._

When he came to his senses, Nyota was asking him how he'd gotten so banged up.

Jim replied, quite embarrassed, that he'd passed out on some steps. Len cringed.

Jim Kirk had grown up thinking that the only way to deal with pain was to ignore it, keep running.

Running from his captors, his abuser, himself… he kept on running, right past the people he loved.

 _I love him so much._

He must have one helluva headache – his ribs clashing agonisingly with the nasty chest infection. Empty stomach raw, voided till he dry heaved.

Ten minutes later, Starfleet security ensigns barged in to take down the supposed intruders.

Leonard had to laugh at the sight that surprised them: three bedraggled Starfleet officers smirking foolishly up at them.

One wearing a funny hat.

* * *

Jim did not sleep a wink that night.

They were organised transport back home, where after some regen, cleaning up and painkillers, Len helped a pliant Jim under the shower spray (third one of the day).

The dumb kid, despite _everything_ , still managed to make a kinky joke.

A tired, hoarse, stuffed up, completely and utterly _not_ sexy joke.

But Len was grateful.

Jim even flinched when he pressed the cold medicine/antibiotic medley into his neck.

He forced some plain toast and applesauce on his now warmed-up charge and then, finally, allowed him to bed, thinking that the excessive get-well ritual would have wiped him out completely.

Jim lay curled into Len, who gently stroked his hair.

The novelty of having Jim there and safe was not lost on him. He sighed contentedly, forgetting.

 _Everything was almost like normal. Like at the Academy, after a barfight._

He was asleep, lips pressed against Jim's forehead, when Jim started crying.

He sobbed dejectedly. He pushed away from Len.

"Jim?" Nothing. "Jim, you're not alone."

"I can't –" A horrific cough tore through him, and he wretched. "I'm so sorry, Bones. I'm so… so sorry…" Bones reached a hand out and rubbed his back, feeling useless.

The irony of the parallel to this morning was not lost on him. How many times could this happen?

"Bones… please go…" He rasped.

"What? Jim, no! I can't just leave you like this, you're-"

A speech that had clearly been well-rehearsed whilst Len was asleep was croaked out. "I don't want to associate you with this. You're the only thing I have right now – the best thing in my life, Bones, and I don't want you _ruined by my own mistakes."_

Len's heart was breaking into a million pieces.

" _Please,"_ choking on tears, " _I lost Captain Pike. The whole world knows everything about me. I can't lose you, or there's no point living. I'd die."_

Len didn't move.

" _Go!"_ Jim had yelled, his voice scraping painfully.

And with that, Leonard picked up his pillow and reluctantly left the room.

He left his heart, his lungs, his brain in there.

And so he fell onto the sofa, numb.

When he realised he was crying, he saw the flashing light of the answering machine blurring with his tears.

Hoping that what was happening was a dream, that he was in a coma, he reached out and hit the button. Maybe this was Jim trying to reach him from the waking world.

Beep.

" _Uh, hi, Jim. It's… it's Sam. Your brother."_

Unable to take any more, Leonard's stomach flipped. He made it to the kitchen sink before throwing up.

* * *

 **HELLO FRIENDS**

 **sorry about the wait, ive been not very well for a while and although the spirit is willing, the flesh is weak**

 **I'm not that big of a fan of this chapter, THERES JUST TOO MANY EMOTIONS AND SO MANY THINGS HAPPENING but its nearly 3am and i feel i owe u Something At Least. Poor Bones and Jim huh? They only deserve good things that i just cannot provide**

 **lmk what you think anyway, reviews make my day instantly good! Love u all xxx**


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